The Art of Silence
by KittyKatZorse
Summary: Sherlock and Watson find a young gallery curator, Louisa, who has just managed to escape her kidnappers and is suffereing from shock-induced mutism. Will Sherlock solve the case? Hopefully a Sherlock/OC story...maybe, I haven't quite decided yet.
1. Chapter 1

**This is just an idea I thought of based on the new BBC show Sherlock. I kind of want it to be a Sherlock/OC fic.**

**Anyway, let me know what you think?**

**...**

Louisa ran down the dark, rain-slicked street as rain fell all around her.

Her breathing was heavy and laboured and her dress was torn.

But she kept on running.

Pausing for a moment, she slipped off her broken heels before continuing on as a car screeched around the corner.

Her heart pounded as she heard the vehicle gaining on her.

Pain shot through her poor, cut feet as she pounded the pavement.

With a stifled sob, Louisa managed to duck into the shadows of a darkened alleyway and watched as the car sped past looking for her.

"LOUISA!" called a man's voice from the car window. "You can run but you can't hide from us! We know where you live!"

Louisa trembled with fear as tears poured from her cheeks.

She couldn't let them find her again, she just couldn't.

As the car turned the corner, she let out a sharp sigh of relief and quickly turned around making to run back in the direction she had just come.

Shaking with fear she exited the gloomy alleyway and sprinted down the street.

She had been locked up for days. She didn't have a clue where she was or even what time of day it was, all she knew was that she had to run.

And fast.

Turning a corner she came to a well lit street, but before she could search for a street name of any sort, she heard a screech of car wheels behind her in the distance.

They were still after her...

She quickly ran, glancing behind her as she did so, just waiting for the moment the black car would swerve around the corner and take her away again.

What she hadn't noticed was a taxi pull up on the street ahead of her...

What she hadn't noticed was two men get out...

She only noticed when she ran straight into the two men almost bowling one of them over.

"Hey watch it!" shouted a blonde haired man with a walking stick, scowling at Louisa, but his face suddenly softened when he saw the state that she was in.

Louisa glanced up at the two figures.

The blonde fellow and a taller man, with dark hair and a long coat both stared at her, their eyes widening.

Louisa suddenly shuffled away from them, trembling with fear.

"No, no," said the sandy-haired man. "We're not going to hurt you."

Louisa shook her head and glanced down the street but there was no sign of the car.

"Please," she said quickly, but no sound came from her mouth.

She tried to speak again.

Nothing. Just silence.

"What's wrong? Tell us what's happened Miss," said the blonde man again.

Louisa opened her mouth but still there was nothing.

She tapped her throat with her hand. Trying to convey what was wrong.

"It's a trauma induced mutism," said the dark haired man, speaking for the first time. "We should get her inside."

Before Louisa could argue the tall man had opened the front door of the house and proceeded to usher her inside,

But before she stepped through the threshold she glanced up at the street street name.

Baker Street.

And the flat number...

221b.

Where the hell was she?

...

**Did you like it? **

**I'm not sure whether to carry on with it or not?**

**Let me know!**

**Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Mrs Hudson!" called the dark haired man, whipping off his coat and scarf and flinging them down onto the banister.

Louisa jumped as the door behind her was snapped shut.

The man behind her gave her an apologetic smile before taking off his own coat.

Louisa shivered wrapping her arms around herself and stared around as a tiny old woman in a nightgown came running from a door to their right.

"What is it Sherlock?" she cried, before her eyes suddenly settled upon Louisa. "Oh you poor thing!"

She saw Mrs Hudson's eyes scrutinising her various cuts and bruises, torn dress and no shoes.

"What happened?" continued the old woman, cocking her head and lifting a hand to her mouth.

But Louisa shook her head and looked quickly between the two men waiting for them to explain.

"She's mute..." said the shorter man, limping towards the staircase. "Sherlock said she's been through a trauma-"

"Yes but what kind of trauma?" said Sherlock suddenly, taking a step towards her and quickly grasping her arms.

Louisa backed up and tried to pull away.

Did this man have no concept of personal space?

"She has rope burns, across her wrist and a cut on the corner of her lip, which mean she must have been bound and gagged. Kidnapping is likely, but there's something else..." he muttered, circling her as if she was an object on display.

Louisa narrowed her eyes.

"The dress," he said quietly. "Black. Too formal for casual day or evening wear, so it has to be her work clothes."

Suddenly he ran a hand across the scoop-neck collar of her dress, causing Louisa to slap his hand away and flash him a dark scowl, backing up against the wall behind her.

Who was this man?

Her breathing was erratic and she stared to panic once again, her eyes suddenly flicking this way and that.

She needed to get out. This hallway was small and cramped. Too much like the room she had been kept in for days on end.

She turned and made to tug the door open but it was locked.

She rattled the door several times, tugging it hard.

Oh god, they had locked her in too.

Were they working for the same people?

Suddenly Mrs Hudson appeared at her side. "The latch is sometimes a bit stiff," she said gently. "You just have to give it a good tug."

And to Louisa's surprise Mrs Hudson, heaved the front door open and flashed her a soft smile.

Louisa stood on the threshold looking out onto the rainy street and gulped.

She had nowhere to go. No family living in London she could turn to. She knew that those people were out there looking for her. Ready to swoop at any moment.

She turned and glanced back at the tree figures staring at her with a mixture of curiosity and pity.

She suddenly jumped as she heard a car screech around the corner, its headlamps flashing in the dark.

Her heart thundered and she closed the door with a slam, and pressed her back to it, breathing heavily.

She had no choice. She had to stay here.

She gazed up to see Mrs Hudson stepping towards her and reach out to grasp her shoulder.

"Come on dear," said the old woman. "Let's get you upstairs so that Sherlock and John can have a chat with you. I'll put the kettle on and get you something warm to put on. You must be freezing."

Louisa nodded dazedly as she and the old woman shuffled past the two men and headed for the staircase.

As she did she could feel the man named Sherlock's eyes upon her the whole time, and she didn't like it.

She didn't like it at all.

...

**Unsure as to whether to make this a Sherlock/OC story or just leave it as a mystery story?**

**Let me know what you think?**


End file.
